Azarath: Chapter One
by Alpha Man 2.0
Summary: One thousand years before the conception of Raven, the parallel dimension Azarath was inhabited by many people and creatures. Despite the world being peaceful, it is about to become part of a war that could destroy everything in existence. Please R
1. Chapter 1

A NOTE TO FANS OF TEEN TITANS: This story takes place **one thousand years before** the conception of Raven and, as such, none of the Titans themselves make an appearance. The narrative primarily focuses on the world of Azarath, Raven's home, and the people who lived there long before it was eventually destroyed.

(Author's Notes:)

This story fills in the gaps provided by the animated television series, _Teen Titans_, and is not connected to the comic book. While you, the reader, may or may not have different interpretations of what "Azarath" is, to me and this story, all events pertaining, Azarath is an alternate dimension, parallel to that of Earth. Simply put, it is a whole other world. This does not mean that what I have written should be considered fact—after all, the show's writers themselves were not consistent in their own hints of what the enigmatic Azarath could be. Therefore, one may disagree with the content presented in this literature, but such content is not intended to insult the reader's own interpretations, if any.

Premise: A time of peace erupts violently into war with the sudden siege of the city, Grimas Moenia. The people of Azarath are caught off guard by the abrupt onslaught from an opposing religion, the Church of Blood, worshippers of the Eighth Devil. However, a hero by the name of Hallmek stands tall and fast to defend the weak. Nevertheless, everything is not as it appears to be in this world of supernatural power...

Disclaimer: I did not create Azarath—that honor belongs to DC—but I did create the characters in this story.

(/End of Author's Notes)

* * *

**AZARATH: CHAPTER ONE**

"It was too late for Earth, just as it was too late for Azarath."  
–Arella, Raven's Mother

**"Uprising"**

It was the first time the city of Grimas Moenia had seen war.

Being a part of Azarath, it was generally a peaceful place until today. The unnatural carnage began with a scream, a call for help, and then the quiet fall of a guard's helmeted head into the walkway close to the main gate. Guards cried that the alarm be raised, but those cries were silenced too, and bodies fell about. Hallmek opened his eyes and watched as the invasion began in moments.

He had to push past the panicking civilians to get a better look at what was going on. The sound of metal clanging was getting louder: swords were definitely clashing, he thought. Luckily, Hallmek was already wearing his dark-blue iron armor, and he just drew his sword to ready himself for combat. There was a loud "twang" in the distance, and Hallmek knew that an arrow had just been fired; it whisked passed his left ear.

Tall, mustached, and gray-skinned like the rest of the people, Hallmek figured it was time to take up his circular shield as well. Peasants and non-military folk were screaming as they ran passed him, away from the action, and Hallmek was astounded at their complete and utter terror, which looked like children who encounter a ferocious animal for the first time. And while he personally did not come here to fight, Hallmek knew that it was time to do so.

Pulling him back into the frenzied moment of reality was his bearded comrade, Bradshaw, who wore, in contrast, armor that was of a lighter shade and mixed with green—signifying that he was of a lesser rank—but his build was clearly in the peak of adulthood. He had the common color of violet for his hair, unlike Hallmek's gray.

"They're coming, Hallmek!" Bradshaw shouted, punching Hallmek in the shoulder to rouse him awake, "Grab your sword!"

Hallmek cursed himself: he was never so easily distracted. Now, to get ready for several moments of combat that would eventually escalate to minutes if not hours, Hallmek gripped his sword's hilt and gritted his teeth. The air was even thicker with violence and carnage by now, and a single arrow cut through that thickness, but Hallmek was ready for it. He put up his left arm to block and felt the sudden stiffness of an arrow stop in his shield's exterior.

"Bradshaw, would you please engage those archers?" asked Hallmek, a slight streak of frustration and rudeness in his voice, as though he was upset by the irony that arrows came _near_ him when there was an archer by his side as well. His comrade nodded grimly and pulled back on the string of his bow to release an arrow at the foully dressed enemies on top of the surrounding walls. Bradshaw was much more skilled with the bow than anyone Hallmek had ever seen, but he lacked the incentive to take action without order. At least, that's what Hallmek presumed.

The doors to the city burst open and hordes of enemies in black, wielding jagged blades as weapons, charged in demonically. Bradshaw quickly fired an arrow at the final archer on the top of the wall, above these incoming hordes, and made it fall onto its fellows who just entered. Currently out of arrows—not a good thing, considering the matter at hand—Bradshaw grabbed Hallmek by the shoulder and began to shove him back, telling him that it was time to retreat.

The enemies that engaged Hallmek and Bradshaw were the Mortem—once living men and women who were now dead and mindless, corrupted and enslaved because of their immoral lifestyles, they continued to serve the Eighth Devil. Dressed entirely in black, the Mortem wore hooded black robes and bandages that covered and obscured their faces to the point where only their cold, glowing, red eyes could be seen; they made no sounds except that of hissing and wailing. And, one of these foul creatures was foolish enough to come within Hallmek's arm length and meet face-first the tip of his sword.

With that enemy slain, Hallmek turned and followed Bradshaw hastily up a curving flight of stone stairs. It was apparent to him now that the entire city of Grimas Moenia, despite being built into the side of a mountain, was made up of stone stairs (and walls) but hardly any decent fortifications. What was worse was that the oncoming dusk made the Mortem much more difficult to spot in the shadows as they passed.

In fact, one jumped out of a nook and surprised them both.

Hallmek ended its afterlife with decapitation. This Mortem was clearly an archer, and for a moment the two were confused why it had tried to engage them in hand-to-hand combat, but Bradshaw paid it no heed as he picked up its fallen arrows for his own use. Dozens of Mortem scurried about the ground, and Bradshaw was about to take aim against them, but there was a cry of battle from above. Soldiers from Hallmek's company raised their own swords and leapt off the stone terrace, past the flight of stairs on which stood Hallmek and Bradshaw, and down onto the horde below, striking and slashing.

"Looks like we're not the only warriors in this city," Hallmek said with satisfaction and relief.

Bradshaw spoke in haste, "But that doesn't mean we will live any longer! Let's move!"

They ran upwards and were soon on that stone terrace, and black arrows fell about them like rain. This siege would mark the destruction of the city, Hallmek told himself. He and Bradshaw then hastened into a circular courtyard with five statues—presumably of former kings—that marked its boundaries. They would've kept on going, had a young man not approached them from the east side of the courtyard.

He called out to them, "We've been ambushed while trying to exit through the eastern tunnels! People won't be able to escape! We don't have much time! Hurry!"

Suspecting a trap, Hallmek hesitated and grabbed the boy's arm before he could run off, "Just hold on a second, kid. Who are you?"

"I'm Jaspus of the Vaserix," he answered, sounding calm but uneasy, "but you must hurry to the eastern exit if you wish to defend the remaining civilians from the attack. Come on, there'll time for questions later!"

Hallmek was quick to size the young man called Jaspus up and down. He sported no armor, only a plain black collared undertunic and a cardinal-colored overtunic, beneath a maroon-colored, simple, flowing cloak that appeared to be comfortable. He looked almost monastic. Having a lighter shade of gray than Hallmek himself, Jaspus' face was regular-looking, but his hair had a slight flair to it: short and white, not an uncommon color that Hallmek had seen.

Bradshaw broke Hallmek's concentration and answered Jaspus, "We'll do what we can. Lead the way!"

Seeing such charity risk another possible ambush, Hallmek scoffed at Bradshaw, who didn't seem to notice. Jaspus had wheeled around and the three began sprinting back the way that Jaspus had come. The youth led the soldiers into the main hall, Grimas Moenia's largest fortification, and out the easternmost side, into the open of a secondary courtyard, until they came upon three dozen civilians in peasant attire, all pressed up against a stone gate that led into the tunnels of the mountainside.

These were the people that Jaspus spoke of, but there were bodies of soldiers—a few from Hallmek's and Bradshaw's companies—along with those dressed like Jaspus, and even some civilians lying face down. Bradshaw lowered his eyes: these people had not survived the first wave, the one that prompted Jaspus to seek out help. So, Hallmek and Bradshaw drew their weapons to defend them.

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

**"Uprising"** continues...

The wails of the Mortem could be heard throughout the entirety of Grimas Moenia, as dusk finally settled in and the sun had finally settled down. The dark red sky of night was not an encouraging sight for these three. The second wave of enemies came soon enough, but not all were of the Mortem. Men, too, wielding jagged swords and axes, wearing battered pieces of armor—these were the living members of the Church of Blood, with an intense violence to match their devilish insanity. Bradshaw exhaled quickly as he shot a swift arrow at the closest charging opponent's neck, making the foe fall.

"They're inside the keep!" one male citizen cried, "We're doomed!"

Hallmek gripped his sword hard and rushed forward at the approaching hordes, hoping to dispel the citizen's fearful prediction. One of the hissing Mortem dove at Hallmek, but he ducked and, then, pointed his sword upward, just as the fiend was over him. The Mortem was still on his sword when Hallmek lifted it up and threw it off the blade at three more, who didn't dodge in time.

Two evil men used Hallmek's throwing attack as an opportunity to move in and strike at him: they'd assumed that he was winded from such a maneuver. However, those enemies realized their folly as Hallmek defeated them with a single, swift attack: he'd slashed one horizontally and rounded the motion into a downward vertical strike for the second. They fell, never to live to underestimate him again.

So distracted by the chaos was Hallmek that he didn't notice a boulder—roughly six meters in diameter, probably launched from a catapult outside the city—soar over the main hall. Even though he did catch sight of the incoming rock when it was dangerously close, it would've landed on Hallmek and flattened him, had Jaspus not leapt forward and point his palm at it, crying, "Azarath, Metrion, Vaserix!" and it was enveloped in a strange black light, halting inches away from Hallmek's head by some invisible force.

Hallmek looked at Jaspus in wondrous bewilderment, and Jaspus seemed to be strained there as he stood, as if he were _holding_ the rock himself without actually touching it. Jaspus then waved at the rock and it floated away from Hallmek and was set down innocently.

One of the Mortem snarled and leapt at Hallmek to tear him apart with its deadly claws, but it was impeded by an arrow met in the face: Bradshaw had taken action in spite of Hallmek's momentary hesitation. This act inspired Hallmek to jump back into the frenzy of the battle and charge at the Mortem with rage. The Mortem were foolish not to run.

Jaspus, meanwhile, jumped back and had stood next to Bradshaw. He said, "The mechanism for this gate must be somewhere else, since we haven't opened it yet. My guess is up _there_," he pointed to a platform upwards of the courtyard with an obtuse lever, like a scout's outpost. "I'll go and activate the control."

Bradshaw nodded and Hallmek shouted back from the battle, "Don't take too long!"

After chuckling momentarily to himself, Jaspus became serious and took on a countenance of terrible serenity. He was focusing, utilizing the same power that he'd used to stop the boulder. However, this time, Jaspus levitated himself slowly into the air and hovered to the platform to deal with the mechanism that would open the stone gate.

Too soon after Jaspus left was Bradshaw thrown back into battle. Mortem were crawling along the walls of the courtyard, closing in, but this was not the primary concern Bradshaw had: he was worried about those crawling around Hallmek, surrounding him. Hallmek, of course, was too distracted by a rather tall and burly Mortem, one who wielded a battleaxe well. Hallmek cut through the wood just below the blade, transforming the deadly weapon into a mere quarterstaff, and then wheeled around and thrust his sword behind him, impaling the giant Mortem.

Mortem reaching for Hallmek's feet were soon covered in arrows, convulsing and collapsing into death. Hallmek looked to see Bradshaw's handiwork and smiled gratefully. More men of the Blood came, and the two were forced to prepare a defense yet again.

Luckily, the stone gate began to lift. Jaspus had succeeded! The remaining citizens hurried into the tunnels, so both Hallmek and Bradshaw agreed that it was time to go. Unfortunately, another boulder was launched into the sky, aiming at their courtyard. Hallmek gulped, since this one was nearly twelve meters in diameter, and without Jaspus to stop it, the rock would surely kill them both. But, the rock was fired a little too high and missed the two warriors completely; instead, it found a home in the entrance where the stone gate used to be, also forcing additional rocks from the mountain to come down, piling on top, blocking their exit.

No sooner had Jaspus descended back down to them that he laid eyes upon the wreckage, looking shocked and confounded, "Another boulder?"

Hallmek nodded grimly, "Right into the gate. We're stuck."

"There's a passage below us," said Bradshaw hastily, "that leads to the exit Hallmek and I were _originally_ going to take. If we could just carve through these enemy troops, we could make our way out of this area and down there."

"Directly below us?" asked Jaspus. "Hang on."

Suddenly, Hallmek witnessed another strange phenomenon produced by Jaspus: the ground beneath their feet became enveloped in the same black light as before. Slowly, the three descended into it, as though they were actually passing through the floor itself. Hallmek's mind went back to the three words pronounced by Jaspus before—"Azarath, Metrion, Vaserix"—and he began to wonder if these words had summoned some extraordinary power for Jaspus to use: in this case, to make a quick and painless escape.

Inside the underground passage, Hallmek and Bradshaw soon felt ground beneath their feet again and, without a word, Bradshaw began leading them on their way. He'd seen more of these wonders than Hallmek, so he questioned them considerably less. Hallmek, however, deeply desired to make good on the boy's promised time for questions and find out who or _what_ this Jaspus "of the Vaserix" was.

Bradshaw guided his two companions through the passage until they were forced to go up a ramp of rubble, formed by the battle. Now on a rooftop that was barely standing, the three watched the sky for a moment as catapult shots soared across it like gigantic shooting-stars. Bradshaw saw a wooden ladder to his right that descended into the sewers—_this_ would be their exit—but to his left, beyond two pillars, was the greater part of the rooftop, and there stood a foe, spoiling for a fight.

He was not of the Mortem, nor was a common member of the Blood; he was something of greater evil. In an ominous ensemble, he was bald, topless, but each of his hands and forearms were wrapped in brown leather, and he was clothed in coal-colored breeches for his legs and feet. His skin was albino white, sickly pale, having eyes of yellowish-green. In his hands he carried two scimitars—thin, curved swords—stained with blood that dripped into his grip. On his forehead were two long, serrated, crooked horns that protruded upwards: the tips dripped with blood, too, as though used as weapons.

"I'll hold him off as long as I can," Bradshaw commanded, "you get into the sewers! Go!"

Running at the horned-foe, Bradshaw prepared to engage him in combat. Just then, a catapult shot struck one of the pillars and made it collapse on top of the other, creating enough ruins to seal Bradshaw off from his companions. Hallmek saw that the catapults had launched fire into the air, and he decided that now was the time to escape. Tugging at Jaspus' cloak, Hallmek urged him go first down the ladder into the vertical shaft. Hallmek followed close behind.

As Jaspus climbed down, he saw that this vertical shaft was littered with spikes and, further down, there was another level before the sewers. Here sat a large man in the shade, hidden from complete view. He seemed to have a smile engrained on his face, and he appeared to be in some kind of trance. Jaspus stopped and spoke out to him, "Hey! There're enemy forces coming! You'd better get moving!" But the man made no reply.

Hallmek glanced upwards and saw that several Mortem were preparing to climb down the ladder to challenge him and Jaspus, so he kicked the youth to get moving quickly.

However, the weight of the Mortem was too great for the ladder to bear, and it snapped. Jaspus and Hallmek dropped the rest of the way down, landing on their backs in the murky waters of Grimas Moenia's sewers. The Mortem from above were caught on spikes of the shaft, but only one landed with the two Azarathians—and Hallmek was quick to end its existence with a stab to the throat.

A loud crash rang out from up above, and Hallmek looked to see falling rocks and debris close up the shaft. He and Jaspus promptly rolled out of the way of the incoming debris' path and, after a moment of quiet, sensing that no more enemies or obstacles would beset them, they stood up and walked away from the huge pile of rubble, instead towards the light at the end of the sewer tunnel.

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Chapter 3

**"Uprising"** continues...

Jaspus could see that Grimas Moenia was in flames, practically burning to the ground. War had come to Azarath.

Even though Hallmek had been accustomed to the air of battle for the greater part of his life, it was still a strange sight to see a city so easily and totally besieged, destroyed. The sewer tunnel ended and they'd passed just out the side of the mountain, into the woodsy maze of countless dead trees and dark earth, a place where sun never seemed to shine. Now quite a distance away from the city, they were able to look back and see the horror that they'd escaped. Only, they'd now entered into a new one: the Fogland Wood of Urisian.

Urisian was a generally unwelcoming place—if only because it did not sit well with those liking the comfort of light and music—and was frighteningly quiet. One would not do well to be alone here. No, there weren't dangers lurking around every tall bark-wood, but the rub was that the Fogland Wood simply and greatly _appeared_ to be: a place eternally bound to the dead of winter, as though spring would never come.

As much as Hallmek and Jaspus did not want to, they knew that it was time to turn away from Grimas Moenia and focus on more immediate concerns. Hallmek himself was always a fan of having company, even if it meant with a suspicious youth, and was especially so in these lands; it definitely paid to have someone along.

"Hopefully, the battle will not stretch beyond Grimas Moenia," Hallmek said at last. "I'm not really in the mood for more fighting."

Jaspus hesitated with his response, but then finally decreed, "We should make for the city of Dorthicos. There, you can get supplies and recuperate, and it's a place of physical, mental, and spiritual healing, something I think we _both_ could use after what we just witnessed. Besides, my order would be very interested to learn of this sudden siege, and especially that someone _survived_ it. This war shouldn't go unchecked."

"If you're really of the Vaserix," replied Hallmek with a distrusting yet friendly tone, "then your clan should already be aware of it, if my memory of telepathy serves me correctly."

"True, but I think they'd still want to know of the siege from an eyewitness, someone who could describe to them the opposition firsthand."

Hallmek was amazed while hearing Jaspus' words. He snorted quietly and said, "Don't tell me that was the first time you've actually seen a battle. Sure, I was a little taken aback by the suddenness of the situation, but I wasn't shocked or confused."

Jaspus frowned at Hallmek's misunderstanding, "I'm not new to violence. However, I do not come from a belligerent, warmongering clan like you, but never before have the Mortem—the shadows of former lives—taken part in _any_ type of battle. They wandered the Deadlands of the East, scurrying about forsaken burial grounds, never attacking a city, aiding those of the Blood. This development is unprecedented."

"First, I don't appreciate being patronized. Sure, I'm the farthest thing from inner tranquility, and my clan is guilty of being a little over-aggressive, yes, but I would welcome a little tact on your part. I suppose I shouldn't have labeled your shock as naïveté, but I still think this was nothing more than some meaningless quarrel, no different than those experienced by my clan and others'."

"I take it you've seen the Mortem in some city, then?"

"No, you've got me there. I don't know why those foul deathlings were in Grimas Moenia."

"Well, that..." Jaspus paused for a moment, "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"I'm Hallmek," he, too, hesitated, looking not sure what to say next, so said the name of his clan, "of the _Rakomath_."

"The Rakomath? I'm sorry again: I've never heard of them."

"It's a sect of the old Rakashas clan—I think—which was split into many and combined with others. Now that I think about it, the whole thing is quite confusing. Anyway, I remember you saying that you were of the Vaserix: that's one of the original six," he ended with some tone of delight.

Jaspus, in turn, was delighted to hear such, "Yes, few people exist today that are still a member of any original clan."

"So I was right, then? Vaserix is indeed as I said? Was that why you said those words before commanding such powers?"

Hearing this, Jaspus wasn't quite sure if he should go into it, not knowing how to explain it fully to someone who was unfamiliar to it, "Again, yes. I was taught to say _Azarath_, the world, followed by _Metrion_, the fatherly magistrate of it, and finally _Vaserix_, the clan of my mother. Doing that channels the power I've been given right down to my will, and I'm thus able to wield it in various ways, though I still have much to learn."

"It was a long time ago that I saw such wonders like that, Jaspus. Seeing them up close was almost too real for me."

"You could stay at Dorthicos and learn to harness your own power. I'm sure my teachers would not reject you for learning."

Hallmek's expression was suddenly crestfallen. One, he was not even sure if such learning was even possible for him: his family had long forgotten the ways of old and his clan was no longer a part of the original Rakashas, if _that_ was the actual clan he came from. Two, he'd become too accustomed to relying on weapons and equipment than some "inner soul projection." Three, it would be difficult to turn down Jaspus, since the offer was certainly meant well.

However, Jaspus had sensed Hallmek's conflict within and had thus decided to take their conversation back to where it first was. It was then that Hallmek gained a new appreciation for those with telepathy and gained a small but definite trust in Jaspus for understanding.

"Anyway," Jaspus had said, "as we were saying _before_, Hallmek, the undiscovered reason for the Mortem's presence outside their lands is what disturbs me the most. Never before have the Mortem joined forces with the Blood, the soon-to-be Mortem of today. How, then, would the Church of Blood get them to engage in such an attack?"

"I see what you mean, Jaspus. The massing of Mortem in the East makes for one hell of a fighting force, yet none paid heed because of their utter mindlessness. Somehow, they were able to be controlled."

"Who in the Church of Blood has that kind of power? And why, for that matter, would the Church of Blood decide to wage war against the peaceful people of Azarath? Our differences in religion have led to conflict, sure, but have never been reason for _war_."

Hallmek held back a snicker, instead taking a deep breath, "I suppose if your kind wasn't so damned pacifistic, you might actually think you can survive an assault like that. Seriously, Jaspus, why didn't you take up arms at Grimas Moenia? Your life was clearly in danger."

"I don't believe in fighting, for whatever reason," responded Jaspus with a hint of frustration at Hallmek's insensitive words. However, still trying to compose himself, Jaspus went on, "Considering how short life in this world actually is, and that there's no good reason to end it, I see absolutely no point in taking up arms against anyone. I'm a healer: that's where the majority of my power lies."

For a minute, Jaspus knelt down next to a small, withered plant, a dead flower. He moved his hand over it once or twice and, when a faint purple light began to glow from his palm, the plant began to sway and then wiggle with life. Soon, its color was completely restored, and it looked like the tiny hope of spring in a seemingly endless winter. Jaspus hummed a short, soothing tune to himself and then continued speaking, "I do not wish to bring pain into life, only to remove it as best I can, for peace is best attained without pain."

Hearing Jaspus' words, Hallmek sighed, "True, but the world is full of pain. Aren't we supposed to stand against it, with courage and valor?"

"Courage and valor, yes," Jaspus said, turning to him, "but to stand _above_ it, Hallmek."

---

Dawn had finally come, but it was not well-received by the fog-infested Wood of Urisian, disallowing the two to have a shining source to light their path and guide their way. Nevertheless, without the darkness to impede their vision, Jaspus and Hallmek knew that they would soon be out of this maze of dead trees and leafless branches.

Having walked a great distance, the pair decided to spare a moment to rest. While Hallmek cleaned his sword as best he could with the sleeve of his leather vambrace, Jaspus sat in the lotus position—where the legs were crossed and the hands were folded at his stomach—and began murmuring his three-worded mantra, "Azarath, Metrion, Vaserix," repeatedly. Soon, Jaspus had also begun to levitate and hover a few feet off the ground, prompting Hallmek to cease his vigorous scrubbing and gaze up at Jaspus.

"What are you doing?" he asked Jaspus circumspectly. At the sound of this interruption, Jaspus twitched, his concentration clearly broken. He opened one eye and looked at Hallmek, who was still waiting for an answer. Jaspus exhaled, said, "I'm meditating," and closed his eye.

This response was clearly not enough to satisfy Hallmek, so he leaned forward, speaking in a very slow and loud tone, "_Why_?"

"Because if I didn't," Jaspus replied curtly, "you'd be flattened by a large boulder."

The youth opened his eye again and saw that Hallmek was wide-eyed and promptly about to lose his temper, so Jaspus sighed and apologized, deciding that the soldier deserved some course of explanation, though Jaspus rarely felt the need to talk about things he found to be absolutely rote. Now with both eyes calmly opened, he stated, "Sorry, I never thought I'd need to explain meditation, but that's probably because I grew up knowing it from top to bottom, and it's really hard to describe, Hallmek.

"The simplest way I _can_ explain it," Jaspus continued, "is that it's a procedure that allows me to access the very power of my soul and materialize it outside my body for physical, mental, or even spiritual tasks. Meditation is just preparation for the three-worded mantra, the three words you heard me use before. To answer your question, I _need_ to meditate to keep a peaceful mind. A peaceful mind equals a pure soul, but there's only so much I'm capable of. You see—" Hallmek suddenly put a hand, indicating that Jaspus should be silent.

Standing up, Hallmek took hold of his sword and looked about the area. Presently Jaspus was disturbed by some approaching force. He discontinued his levitation, set himself back on the ground, and whispered, "Someone's coming. We'd better get moving."

Hallmek, in response, disagreed, "No, I hear hoof beats."

Jaspus could then see that it was Hallmek's intention to take the horse for his own, hoping to make his journey with Jaspus speedier. Hallmek scrambled to find something he could use as a javelin, despite Jaspus' protests. The soldier finally settled on a long tree branch—just in time, too—since he caught sight of the cause of the incoming hoof beats.

It was a rider on a crimson-colored horse. He was clearly a man, grey-skinned with very long but tied-back black hair, with sharp facial features like high cheekbones and a pointed jaw. In his hand was a long pike, signifying that he was most likely a scout or patrol for the Church of Blood. His battered appearance gave the impression that he'd participated in the siege of Grimas Moenia.

Hallmek threw the javelin but missed the horseman completely. However, this horseman more than noticed the projectile and thus had become aware of their presence. Within seconds, he'd leapt between two trees, now facing Jaspus and Hallmek.

"Fugitives of Grimas Moenia, there is no escape!" he shouted at them, "We've run down all but the _last_ of you fleeing scum and I, Gryphus, intend to see your destruction through to the end!"

"Well, I was going to offer you the chance to live if you surrendered your horse," Hallmek sneered, brandishing his sword, "but if you want a fight, you've got one!"

Kicking the sides of the crimson horse, the scout calling himself Gryphus charged forward, holding his pike high. Hallmek was more than ready for it, deflecting the point with the shield on his left and then smacking it down into the ground with a vertical strike from his sword. Gryphus was pole-vaulted off his own horse, over Hallmek, and sent tumbling a few yards away.

Hallmek was on him in an instant. Lying on his back, Gryphus saw as Hallmek leapt at him and aimed the blade for his heart, but Hallmek's attack was made too hastily, and Gryphus was able to shift his torso an inch to the left, forcing Hallmek to miss and the blade to go into the ground. Gryphus brought up his leg and lashed his foot at Hallmek's face, kicking him so hard that a tooth was knocked out.

Stunned, staggering back, and seeing that his vision had gone blurry, Hallmek struggled to regain his focus, bleeding from the mouth. Gryphus, however, would present Hallmek with the same courtesy he himself was given, striking instantly. Putting up a hand with curled-forward fingers, Gryphus muttered three words which were very different from those of Jaspus: "Necronom, Hezbarek, Mortyx!" A large white orb appeared and hovered in front of his hand before being discharged, launched head-on at an unsuspecting Hallmek.

However, Hallmek was not so unsuspecting, for even though his vision had not cleared, he still sensed an impending attack and put forward his shield in an attempt to block whatever was coming. With an eerily loud crash, the orb struck the shield and utterly shattered it into pieces. The force of such a blast had knocked Hallmek off his feet.

All Hallmek could do was roll onto his stomach before he felt completely paralyzed.

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Chapter 4

**"Uprising"** continues...

A few moments of numbness set in before Hallmek was abruptly jerked out of it by the sudden sharp pierce of Gryphus' pike being lunged into his back. He cried out in painful agony as Gryphus drove the pike in deeper.

Then, Jaspus watched as the grin on Gryphus' face was literally wiped off by the spiked head of a mace, destroying Gryphus' left cheek. The blow had met him directly in the face and had flung him several meters away from Hallmek's prone, wounded body. Jaspus looked and saw that a man had done this deed: he was short but heavy muscled, middle-aged like Hallmek, and hardly retaining any hair on his head or face. In his hand he held a long mace, now dripping with blood from Gryphus' face.

The sound of Hallmek groaning painfully reminded Jaspus, who was surprised about not noticing another party become involved, that Hallmek was still wounded. So, Jaspus ran toward his fallen friend, crying, "Hang on, Hallmek! I'll heal you!" and had knelt beside him. The youth placed his hands over Hallmek's back and his palms began to glow a deep purple, which radiated over Hallmek's entire body.

"Sorry I wasn't here quicker," the middle-aged man said to Jaspus cheerfully, "but I had to rescue some other escapees from scouts like this. It's really quite time-consuming, the way they put up a fight." Then, looking at Hallmek, he asked Jaspus, "Will he be okay?"

Before he could get an answer, the man's attention was diverted back to his opponent. Gryphus had reclaimed his pike, although holding the right side of his face tenderly. He wasn't going to let this man get away with hurting him so badly.

He screamed as best he could, "Necronom, Hezbarek, Mortyx!" and pointed his pike forward to unleash a colossal blast of white electricity, which struck the short man with no apparent effect. Without a word, the man spun his mace above his head, and fire began to surround him. Then, he brought down the mace to the ground, the impact of which caused a horizontal tornado of flames and embers to soar at Gryphus, knocking him into his horse and carrying them both back into the woods.

Meanwhile, Hallmek was amazed at how well Jaspus' powers actually worked. The wounds he'd suffered both during the siege of Grimas Moenia and at the hands of Gryphus were now completely gone, along with the pain. He finally felt the energy to stand up and did so with incredible vigor. Jaspus had to step out of his way.

Relaxing his grip of the long mace, the short man exhaled but quickly approached Jaspus and Hallmek. "There are far more scouts in these foggy dead woods than him," he said to them, "it's imperative that we leave and get out of sight. We can make for a hidden outpost where I am stationed. Come on, I'll lead you there. It's not far from here."

"Where is it? Wait," Jaspus' eyes glowed bright white, "I already know."

Upon Jaspus' gesture, the three were encased in a dome of black light that faded into the ground and, by the time Gryphus and his fellow scouts would arrive for a rematch, they were long gone.

---

Hallmek and Jaspus reappeared with their mace-wielding savior to see the outpost just as promised. Of course, it helped Hallmek's conscience that Jaspus used that telepathy to make certain that an outpost actually existed, and it was constructed of green-colored stone—two high pillars that matched the likeness of trees to help blend in to their surroundings which, Hallmek soon saw, where quite far away from the Wood of Urisian.

"Normally," the short man said with a chuckle, "the villagers I rescued could go on their merry way after their oppressors were warded off, but you two... I'm not so sure about. Are you itching for a fight or something, sir?" he looked at Hallmek.

"Hey, I had everything under control until that guy pulled a fast one on me!"

The words uttered by Hallmek reminded Jaspus of that occurrence, and he changed the subject, saying to the man, "Forgive my friend, good sir. I am Jaspus, and this is Hallmek," he gestured to himself and then to Hallmek. Then, Jaspus continued with, "I have seen many dark forces at work, and those used today caught my friend here off guard. I was, too, by what happened when Gryphus' attack didn't faze you. Only someone endowed in dark power themselves could be immune to such an assault."

He nodded in response, "You're right, boy. I'm Serax, a former Dark Centurion."

"Dark Centurion?" inquired Hallmek, sounding suddenly apprehensive, "That means that you're one of the Blood!"

"_Formerly_," answered Serax. "I grew up under the Church of Blood's teachings, yes, but have since rejected their ways, ever since my own children were lost to horrible corruption. I seek solace and carry out justice against those who threaten the innocent. Sounds stupid, right?"

Jaspus smiled, "Not at all. In fact, I've actually been curious about what exactly draws people to the Church of Blood and allows them to use a power very _different_ from the one bestowed upon them at the beginning of life."

"Oh, it's not all that complicated. They are drawn to that religion for the same reason you are drawn to yours: answers. The Church of Blood is obsessed with finding a means to immortality, eternal life, while still being able to retain the physical power they already have. My position is that you simply can't have both, but they disagree. The Blood has found their answer in worshipping the Eighth Devil, who I have known to be called Scath, but only in public. You've seen the Mortem? _That_ is their 'answer' to immortality: pledge loyalty to Scath by living immorally and causing destruction, and you get to live on—well, until someone ends that life too—but the cost is that you'll be a mindless slave."

"I was actually more curious about the words Gryphus uttered," Jaspus responded.

"Gryphus? You mean the scout that attacked you?"

Then, after receiving a confirming nod from both Jaspus and Hallmek, Serax went on, "Well, again, it's not all that different from the words you yourself use. Yes, seeing your little healing talent has led me to believe that you, too, have some power. Needless to say, the magic words of Gryphus do not call upon the strength of this world and of Metrion, but of something more sinister, and those words only aim to hurt and destroy.

"It is difficult for many to fully grasp the concept of that power," Serax added, "and it is a dangerous power, indeed, for those who are not akin to its magic are often overwhelmed by it and then consumed by it. Yes, to have a moral lifestyle and control the dark magic is quite impossible, despite that it's surprisingly easy to learn."

Being completely lost and confused, Hallmek interrupted, "Well, thank you, Serax, for the kindness of saving my life and for leading out of the Fogland Wood of Urisian. However, we really must be going."

"I agree," Jaspus said, "we should not linger anywhere, since we don't want another encounter with scouts or, rather, _any_ enemy forces today."

"First," replied Serax, turning to Hallmek, "you don't need to thank me. I've never left behind anyone in danger and I'm not about to start now," then, turning to Jaspus, "This outpost is safe from any enemy forces. It's shielded by the same dark energy that they use, so it won't be at all easy to spot. Plus, it's camouflaged. Besides, even if someone was approaching, I'm sure you'd _sense_ it."

With a sigh from them both, they agreed to rest and recuperate for the moment. Serax offered to round up some transports after he'd scrounged together some food. Inside the four-walled structure that stood beside the outpost's left pillar, Jaspus stood by the fireplace while Hallmek found a wooden bench to sit on.

As Hallmek sat leaning forward, attempting to catch his breath, he watched as Jaspus tensely paced about the room. The youth seemed uncomfortable by the lack of visible light inside the outpost's station, and so he strolled to the wall where a large, empty, diamond-shaped lamp hanged. Even though the lamp was swinging ever-so-slightly, Jaspus stopped it with a touch; then, putting his palm flat up against it, he whispered something and a faint blue light began to glow from his palm.

It passed into the lamp and remained there after Jaspus had taken his hand away. When he'd turned back silently, Jaspus saw that Hallmek was staring at him in angry confusion. "You don't even rely on candles or fire to keep you from the dark of the night," muttered the soldier. "What sorcery is this—that has passed from my people but remained with yours?"

Jaspus was taken aback: never had someone questioned the nature of his being, questioned what exactly he was, as if he were not normal in the world, and he did not know how to respond correctly. Still, he said, "Not sorcery, but the soul which burns within each living person: the power granted by Azar (translated as "God") to all men and women, those who choose to wield it. Long ago, Metrion and the other elders requested that such power be given them to make their lives easier, but the power was already given when the people were made, only now it was to be used for physical tasks rather than for preserving life eternally."

Seeing that Hallmek had not changed his expression, Jaspus smiled nervously and sympathetically, adding, "If you believe such things."

With a big grin, Hallmek chuckled loudly, appreciating Jaspus' obvious tact. "I know the creation story of Azarath, Jaspus."

By this time, Serax had returned with food. It was definitely welcomed by Hallmek, who took his plate graciously. There were bits of hot bread and a cup of hot tea as well—the perfect meal for someone in haste. Jaspus took a sip of his tea as well, sitting across from Hallmek at the wooden table.

"So," Hallmek said, taking a big bite of the bread, "tell me: why exactly did you go to Grimas Moenia?"

Jaspus paused for a moment, pondering the question. Something clearly bothered him, but he answered the inquiry anyway, "Well, as you know, I'm a healer, and my order received word that Grimas Moenia urgently needed healers, which strikes me as odd. It's almost as if whoever made the request for healing and such services was _aware_ of the imminent battle."

Hallmek offered an alternative, "Or there could've been a plague or rampaging disease of some sort. See, that's the problem with you telepaths and empaths, you're always over-_thinking_ everything, when you should just accept it as simple coincidence." Jaspus decided not to go add to such an argument; but even if he did, Hallmek had changed the subject so quickly he would've been unable to do so, stating, "I don't share that theory, since I was simply on my way back home."

"As am I, now," Jaspus replied at last.

"Dorthicos?" Hallmek smirked to himself and finished off his tea, "I figured. What's it like?"

Jaspus gazed upwards nostalgically, humming as he spoke, "Dorthicos is a celestial city. It floats high above the ground, held aloft by the same type of power I used to illuminate that lamp," he pointed to the large, glowing, blue diamond on the wall, but added, "if you believe such things. I've always found the sound of clouds to be one of the most relaxing elements of the place, one of the best ways to be at peace. Despite going out on assignments like the one to Grimas Moenia, I always cherish returning there. My wife is handmaiden to the Lady Dorraine."

In the next instant, Hallmek spat out his tea. "Hold on," he said, interrupting Jaspus, "your _wife_?! Surely you can't be married! I mean, just by looking at you, I'd have to say that you're, at the most, eighteen years old, definitely not twenty. So, then, how is it possible that you could be married at such a young age?!"

Seeing Hallmek's sudden outburst, Jaspus was a little confused why the concept was so new to him. "You guessed correctly on my age," said Jaspus, trying to explain further without risking another outburst, "and my wife has just turned sixteen, she too is a healer; we've been married for two years. The earliest someone can wed is fourteen, in my culture and in that of the Zinthos and others, at least to my knowledge."

Half-realizing what Jaspus was attempting to say, Hallmek nodded, "Ah, I understand: it was an arranged marriage, a betrothal. Well, I suppose you can't fight the culture you live in, but I personally opt for choosing my bride rather than having her chosen for me. Besides, I wouldn't want someone marrying me if they didn't want to at heart."

"Actually, I _did_ choose her. However, the more accurate way to say it is that our souls discovered each other. Now, I understand that, for you, that's a hard concept to wrap your mind around, but please bear with me. My parents took me to the temple shortly after I was born, in hopes that my soul would locate its mate, on the presumption that my mate had even come into existence beforehand. Unfortunately, my wife was not yet conceived by her own parents, and so I had not been given a soul mate.

"Two years later, a girl named Mariax was born, and _her_ parents took her to the temple for the exact same reason. Placing her in the Pool of Padmia, my face and name appeared in a wondrous mist, and so her parents sought out mine. But it wasn't until I'd turn fourteen that I'd felt an incredible _rush_ of feelings for her, exciting feelings, a deep desire to hold her close and never let her go. I eagerly waited to marry her and completely give myself to her. But I was naïve and did not completely understand the intricacies of what I had undertaken.

"Meaning, I had no idea what I would receive, in turn, from her. To be completed and fulfilled, finding endless comfort and solace, love and life, all in one single person was absolutely electrifying. In the act of marriage, we'd bonded together so completely that it felt as though we shared in a continual bounty of happiness and did not have to go looking for it. She haunts my dreams every night and, from what I can ascertain, I haunt hers, like a sweet song of being blessed simply for living. I tell you, Hallmek, I do not think I could've ever found such a woman a different way."

There was a moment of silence after Jaspus had finished. Positively dumbfounded, Hallmek's jaw hanged low until he said, "Okay, I'm confused. Someone dips you in a pool and you instantly know who you're destined—and I _hate_ the use of that word—to spend the rest of your life with?"

"As I explained before, when the early people requested that they be given power to make their lives physically easier, they sought fulfillment in each other, instead of in God; and even _this_ request was granted, although it was probably part of the original. The order I serve believes that God wanted people to be happy and, in my opinion, such marital fulfillment is the closest one can come to the bliss that we might've shared with God had the request _not_ been posed."

Presently he gasped and clutched his chest, muttering painfully, "To know what I have now and live in some other state of being, the thought _gnaws_ at me! I cannot understand how other people can wander their lives without even _knowing_ who...!" he could not bring himself to finish the sentence. Still, Hallmek pressed the issue.

"How do you know the pool isn't fraudulent, that it isn't one big lie?"

"I suppose I don't," shrugged Jaspus, "even though I have telepathically examined it for myself several times to see if it was genuine, but those exercises, years ago, were that of an anxiously skeptical novice. If you believe such things, Hallmek, then I am living proof that I am happy after having found my wife. If it really is fraud, then I am ever the fool." He chuckled and shook his head.

Hallmek decided not to answer that remark, and he was just in time, too, for Serax had returned again with news. "I've assembled your transports, gentlemen," he said amicably, directing them to the door.

"Thank you again, Serax," bowed Jaspus as he passed him.

"Like I said, no need to thank me. By the way, where are you boys off to?" Serax sounded quite interested.

"The celestial city of Dorthicos, to drop _this_ one off," Hallmek pointed to Jaspus, "and then I'm off to my own city."

They stepped out of the outpost's stone structure and were now back onto the dirt ground of the outside. "If you don't mind," Serax said quickly, "I'd very much like to join you. See, I've been cooped up like an old hermit in this outpost, and I'd love to see some action again. Besides, Sir Hallmek, based on what I've seen, _you're_ going to need me."

As the three came upon their transports, Serax added, "Anyway, I thought we'd ride the Volatilis Equus, as they're the most reliable. Hold on, I'll introduce you."

Hallmek exclaimed their essence, "Fa'Laya!" (translated as "winged horses")

Serax gestured to a brown winged-horse with speckles of white, "This is Sir Rupert," and then to a white-and-gray one, "this is Sir Monty," and finally to the last one of pure white, "and this is Sir Elkhart."

Hallmek approached the brown one and marveled, "I have heard of the Fa'Laya in legend, yes, but never before have I seen them!"

"We're just as real as you, laddie," Sir Rupert said. Hallmek jumped back in shock, and the horse turned to an angry Serax, chuckling, "Sorry, I couldn't resist." Sir Rupert knew very well that, if Hallmek hadn't seen one before, he'd certainly not heard one talk.

"Oh, grow up, Sir Rupert," grumbled Sir Elkhart.

"It's a wonder that he's the eldest of us," added Sir Monty.

In great haste, the three men mounted each steed—Serax upon Elkhart, Jaspus upon Monty, and last Hallmek upon Rupert, respectively. The three Fa'Laya flapped their feathered wings as they galloped into a rapid charge and, when their wings had gusted up enough wind, they took to the air, flying high over the trees.

Sir Monty spoke correctly about Sir Rupert's age, for the horse that Hallmek rode was indeed old and flew with little finesse, as though he did not have the energy for it. However, Hallmek did not mind because, considering the horse's apparent temperament, Hallmek believed he was lucky enough to be riding this Fa'Laya at all.

"I can tell that you've ridden on my kind before," Sir Monty told Jaspus, "but that you feel a certain sadness because my race is wasting away, and an even greater guilt for relying on the _flight machinations_ of your own people's construction. Yes, young master, I have some sense of empathy too, though I am not as old and 'wise' as Sir Rupert, and so I can feel your emotions like heat from a pot."

"I apologize for letting my emotions disturb you," replied Jaspus.

"Don't worry about it," Monty chuckled. "If people need swift travel and winged horses like myself aren't around, then I definitely approve of what your people have constructed. When I was young, I begrudged those of the Zinthos and Vaserix for their levitative abilities, their self-propelled flight, and then their construction of even swifter machines when their own powers couldn't suffice. But now I am not so bitter. I remember a time when people bought and sold Fa'Laya with no regard for them at all. Now, I enjoy the freedom but am happy to help."

"My friend Hallmek hasn't seen the flight creations made by my people," Jaspus said, "and he was surprised and amazed when I lit a simple lamp. He finds it hard to understand the fantastic wonders of this world, the things that you and I, by our very nature, have grown so accustomed to seeing, simply because we're wonders ourselves."

"Does he know that celestial cities are held aloft by the people who live in them?"

"I explained it, but I don't think he understood. He tends to just accept things if questioning them becomes dull."

"Well then, I hope he spends some time with Sir Rupert," laughed Sir Monty, "because that old horse will have plenty of stories for him."

They flew on, riding passed the wind. Shining in the yellow sky, the great sun had risen to light the day and, for the first time, Hallmek and Jaspus felt that the darkness had dispelled. A sensation of tranquility shone upon Jaspus' face as he took a much-needed deep breath, soaking in the freshness of the air as the three horses and their riders burst through the clouds into the firmament.

TO BE CONTINUED


End file.
